


immortal.

by sandarenu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark Dean Winchester, Dean-Centric, First Blade, Gen, Immortal Dean, Mark of Cain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:09:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandarenu/pseuds/sandarenu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 2067. An exercise in writing on immortal Dean and the people he lets go because of the Mark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	immortal.

**Author's Note:**

> I was inspired by 9x16 and 9x17 and wrote this. I thought about Dean becoming immortal and having to stay away from Cas because of the corruption from the Mark of Cain and how Sam (and Charlie, and everyone in spn we care about who are human) would continue to live a mortal life that eventually ended and I got really sad and this happened.

_Later_

 

Sam dies.

 

Dean stalks his funeral possession, peering through a bush at the rag-tag group of hunters following the smartly dressed college crowd Cas had managed to bring together for Sam Winchester’s last march. 

The hiss of the Mark drowns out the god-awful funeral music and the priest’s droning. Cas makes a sorrowful speech, the wrinkles around his blue eyes only marginally more prominent than the day he’d first walked into Dean’s life, and Charlie makes a funny one, about the college girls who’d been in love with their handsome, long haired Professor of Law and about how her dog loved Sam more than she loved her owner. Charlie’s red hair is now snow white and her 100th anniversary Star Trek t-shirt is a splash of vibrant purple amongst the morbidly dressed crowd. She finishes in tears. Dean just stares.

“ _Died 05-02-2067. Beloved Brother, Son, Hunter, Man of Law and Letters_ ”, the tombstone reads. “We will miss you forever, Professor Winchester’ says a large sign on one of the flower arrangements. The coffin gets lowered into a hole right next to the plot that has a 52-year-old tombstone adorned with a simple “ _D.W._ ”.

 

Cas looks once in Dean’s direction after the last shovel of dirt is thrown over the coffin, and the grace, the pure _goodness_ , emanating from him, in spite of his almost 60 year long stint visiting the dirt of Earth and getting right in the middle of everything evil that has happened in that time period, is too much to bear, and Dean feels the First Blade vibrating inside his coat in protest, the Mark repelling  the angelic grace like it is a beacon to chase the darkness away, like the monster inside him is scared of being seen, being caught.

Maybe Cas shouts at him, maybe he raises a hand, and maybe Charlie perks her glasses up and holds on to Dorothy’s fragile arm tighter, because sometimes Cas tells her he sees Dean and she hasn’t, not even once, in all these years. Maybe later Sam’s hipster students will joke about the handsome middle-aged guy dressed in an unfashionable pair of jeans and a black Henley who’d looked like he was having some kind of crisis.

For now, the hiss from the Mark is too strong, and the command is always the same, _go away, go away, get away from them, you don’t belong here, go back to Hell, you belong with me, just me, kill kill kill, run RUN RUN RUN away-_

 ***

He searches through the traffic coming into hell from Purgatory and Earth for months before he breathes a sigh of relief. Sam isn’t here. He’ll be in heaven if there’s any luck in the world, maybe sharing a beer with Ash at Ellen’s Bar and playing pool with Jo and flirting with Pamela. Dean knows he should ask Cas about it, seeing as he runs Heaven these days. The War had seen him defeat Gadreel and Metatron along with an army of angel allies, and the place has been nice and quiet ever since. Cas would know what Sam’s heaven is, if he even made it there.

 

Dean sighs. Maybe next year.

 

He hasn’t talked to Cas in 52 years, and the burning sulphur roaring in his veins any time he gets near anything angelic doesn’t make it too hard a thing to do. Dean knows he reeks of everything he’s done. Nobody needs to see this, to remember him like this, animalistic and cold and too good at his work. There are muted memories of Cas from a lifetime ago, and sometimes, when there’s a lull and he remembers to feel lonely, Dean tries to relive them, like an old boozer craving for some Jack.

There is still paperwork to sort out from the complete bureaucratic nightmare that was Crowley’s crossroads demon dealing and Abaddon’s soul stealing right before the War, and there is no shortage of terrible people dying and crossing over to Hell.

 

The souls entering Hell magnifies tenfold in the blink of an eye. Somewhere on Earth, a Revolution has broken out. 

Dean unsheathes his Blade.

 


End file.
